252 FROM THE COLUMBIA VALLEY TO FORT OWEN. 
Extracts trom my journal kept on the route will give you the most complete information con- 
cerning my operations from that point. 
Monday, July 18, 1853.—We have completed all our arrangements, and started for the Rocky 
mountains at four o’clock p.m. Our animals being wild, and unused to carrying packs, we had 
great difficulty in getting under way, and only marched five miles, with the loss of several packs. 
The party is now composed of Lieutenant Arnold, 3d artillery, Lieutenant Macfeely, 4th infantry, 
Mr. D. L. Arnold, an escort of eighteen soldiers, Mr. D. S. Hoyt, one packmaster, one assistant 
packmaster, twenty-three packers, three herders, two cooks, and one guide. As it is rumored 
that the Indians on some parts of the route are hostile, in order to guard against surprise, the 
party march in the following order, which is to be observed throughout the journey: 1, guide ; 2, 
Lieutenant Macfeely, with one-half the soldiers; 3, the pack train, each packer having charge of 
five animals, that being the greatest number which one man can manage in the wild mountain 
region through which we are to pass; 4, the remainder of the escort of soldiers in charge of the 
sergeant. We are encamped on a small creek, five miles from the Dalles, in good grass. From 
this point nearly to Wallah-Wallah we shall follow the emigrant trail, so that a particular 
description of the country will be unnecessary. 
Tuesday, July 19.—Commenced at daylight preparations for marching; but our animals con- 
tinued to rebel against their unwonted burdens, so that it was late before we got under way. We 
encamped at Olney’s ranch, six miles from our last night’s camp. 
Wednesday, July 20.—Marched eight miles, to Sand Camp, on the Columbia, five mites from 
Camp Olney. We came to the Des Chutes river, a branch of the Columbia from the south, a 
swift, rocky stream, too deep to be forded, and abounding with fine salmon and trout. A ferry is 
kept here by an American, and supported principally by the emigrants. It was late before all 
the animals and baggage were got across. Our camp is in a pleasant spot, with abundance of 
good grass. We were much annoyed by sand, the wind drifiing clouds of it over our tents and 
beds. We purchased abundance of salmon from the Indians. 
Thursday, July 21—We are encamped, this evening, on a rocky creek, a small branch of John 
Day’s river, a tributary of the Columbia. Our route had been along the Columbia, some eight 
or ten miles distant. Some elevations of a thousand feet above the river were passed. We 
were all day in sight of Mount Adams and Mount Hood, whose snow-capped summits rise into 
the region of perpetual frost, fifteen thousand feet above the ocean level. These mountains pre- 
sent a grand and sublime appearance, and are peculiar objects of Indian superstition and tradi- 
tion, the special abodes of the ‘Great Spirit” and of genii of various names and functions. 
We have had an uncomfortable march across a heath entirely destitute of water and trees. 
The thermometer ranged as high as 106° in the shade. Our animals were much broken down, 
and when they reached the camp, parched with thirst, they plunged into the deep cool water of 
the river, and thus many articles of provisions were more or less injured. I found additional 
difficulty to-day from the indifferent pack-saddles procured at San Francisco, the materials of 
which are very weak, and ill put together, so that they injure the backs of the animals. Far as 
we are from the means of procuring or constructing others, this is a serious inconvenience. 
Just before reaching camp, we had the misfortune to break down our only wagon, containing 
many articles of value, which we were obliged to leave behind for the benefit of future wanderers 
upon this trail. A fine ox, which I had brought along for food, died from the effects of heat. 
Friday, July 22.—We have made but a short march of seven miles, in consequence of the 
casualties of yesterday. We obtained a wagon and pack-saddle from an emigrant. All hands 
are engaged in jerking the beef of one of our oxen, which, owing to the great heat of yesterday, 
was unable to go farther. The result of the process is doubtful with the thermometer at 105°, 
but we cannot afford to lose any of our provisions without an attempt to save them. We are 
encamped on the same creek; the grass is good, the water pure and cold, needing no addition 
of ice. 
